


wonderlust

by C4NDI3 (orphan_account)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alien-like Creatures, Alien-like Flora and Fauna, Eventual Smut, Female Reader, Fluff, Plot, Plot Sprinkles on the Story Doughnut at times, Reader Both Thinks and Uses Profanity, Reader Does Not Enjoy Loud Noises, Reader Insert, Reader is Allergic to Cats, Reader is a Light Sleeper, Story Uses Profanity as Well (ha ha), Televisions Don't Exist (big shocker), eventual angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 19:01:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6296023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/C4NDI3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>wonderlust – n.</p><p>a feeling or thirst for nonsense and wonder, generally associated with an urge to adventure.</p><p>(( Recommended listenings: Vanilla Twilight, Fireflies, We Are Young ))</p><p>—</p><p>As a child, you were alone, but at the same time not. As a teenager, you were a freelancer in this odd world. As an adult, your coming of age is soon, and with it comes a choice that will determine your future - for good or bad is your decision. But instead, you choose a different option than royalty or submission:<br/>Escape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wonderlust

Blinking slowly, you turned on the DreamScreen, pulling out a random chair from your side-room. Shuffling steps that were muffled echoed from you as you set the furniture piece down with a sigh, grumbling. Putting on a quiet, inspirational song, you pulled out a small pinkwood ottoman, along with a indigo fountain pen. Tapping the pen lightly against your cheek, you placed a stack of papers down with a grunt. School assignments were not your favourite, but at least this one was one of your fabourite things. The prompt of the writing was to tell a story of a whimsical tale, and a conflict/resolution within it; whether it be with oneself or person versus person, et cetera et cetera. You had decided upon the caretaking of a legendary, near-extinct flower (that didn't exist, made up for the purposes of writing (which would earn you extra credit points) and had been hard to come up with at that) that was exotic and hard to find.

You had only a few lines left, thank goodness, and as your brewer pepared a cup of Janellope, you finished the writing. Making a tired noise of triumph, you collected and reordered the pages, threading them together was a small needle. Putting a makeshift cover around the newly made tome, you set it into your pastel bag, sighing. You leaned back in your chair, in need of a break, and as you entered a dreamy reverie, your brewer made an unheard ding. As you daydreamed of ideas and choices, you smelled the earthen aroma, earning a 'mmm' of triumph emanating from your vocal chords. Grinning softly, you blinked and slowly stood up, soon returning with the ivory cup.

You hadn't slept, so you did not awake; but you grasped a mug of Janellope in your hands as you filtered through programmes on your ultraviolet, high-definition DreamScreen. The fluffy, cloudlike, bean-shaped chair you sat in let you sink into it as you flipped through the channels, ever-so-slightly regarding the rising sun. You lived in an upper-class place, as you were part of the royal bloodline. You were referred to by last name (as were most royal peoples, and a few wealthy commoners and artisans) so you didn't know your first. Everyone had nicknames, though. You were known in your group of friends as the Wonderer - different from a wanderer, a type of merchant - for your constant mind-wandering and your out-loud thoughts.

You sighed, placing your cheek on your hand. Nothing good was on, gluh. Shutting off the DreamScreen, you wrapped your fuzzy, lilac-coloured blanket further around your shoulders, snuggling into it. Finishing the Janellope in your mug, you set it into your pristine black sink, running cool, leaf-green water over it. That's what made your world special. When the Earthlings had arrived long ago, they were surprised by the dreamlike things, and the essences your people carried. Humming contentedly as you put away the ivory mug, you levitated a watering can with your left hand, watering the peonies you bought at the Worlds Expo — sort of like a convention for all realms, Earth, your homeworld and elsewhere, including that place that was almost entirely giant feet — and marveling over their vibrant colouration. Everything in your world was muted and soft, like it was known to be. Most referred to the vast planet as the Dreamscape, others with more..vibrant imaginations referred to it as the Mindscape.

As you finished drying and putting away objects, you yawned, raising your arms. Rubbing at your eyelids, clearing the sleep from your face, you breathed into your hand. Yup. Morning breath. With a small grumble, you splashed the emerald-tinted water on your face, shivering. Shit. That was way too cold, ew, but at least it awoke you. Rubbing your face with a small grey hand towel, you sighed. Heading back onto the bean-shaped chair, you debated on eating. Nah, you decided, you had just drunk a huge cup of Janellope anyways. Inhaling and exhaling deeply, you rain a hand through your thick curls, smiling a bit at your locks softness and visible shininess. Smiling now, you plodded toward your room, and, while brushing your curls, flitered through your closet. Pulling out a ruffled blouse and some comfy capris, you grinned. Today, you'd do it. You'd visit the Garden.

… You just needed to figure out how.

With a sigh, you pushed the idea out of your agenda. You'd figure it out later — right now, you had places to be. Strapping on some embellished sandals, a muted red with indigo gems, your wings unfurled from your back. Small, wispy, and feathery, they were perfect for your lacking height. Putting your hair into a bun, you placed a dull red pin around it, embellished with your family's symbol. "Lady Monroe!"

Gluh, Jackson. He was your butler, and he was like a snake. Gross and everywhere.

"Coming!" Your voice rang out in return, as you rushed into the hall. "What is it?"

"My lady," he said, "you have visitors."

Visitors? What the fuck? You never had visitors. Sighing, you loosely crossed your arms, calling out a blunt "come in" to said peoples. Jackson moved too close beside you and you showed him your favourite finger and a hiss, pushing him away with your angel-like wings. They were a dull grey, yes, but angelic nonetheless. He stepped aside, murmuring an apology.

Your friends rushed in with a squeal, and your face lit up. "Klo!" You squeal in return, drowning her in a hug. The other rushed in as well, grinning. "What's up, Jacie?" You asked, and she wrapped you in a hug. "Nothing much, __, but we want you to come with us. We got permission to get into the Garden, and they said we could bring a plus one—" she rambled, and then Klo butted in. "Yeah! And we said you and they said yes because you're from the," air quotes, "royal bloodline." She snorted, and you gave her a deadpan expression, as did J. "...you are..?"

"YOU DIDN'T KNOW?" J yelled, shaking her shoulders. "LOOK!" She screeched, pointing to you, who grumbled. You pointed to the insignia on your pin, and she gasped.

Well. Getting in would actually prove way easier.

Nothing beats commoner friends.


End file.
